Port Charcot on Booth Island, a breathtaking photo story of snow and ice.
Day 6. There is no mistaking it, we are in the Antarctic.
It's 7:30 am as I stand near the bow of the G Expedition. The early morning sun paints the clear patches in the cloudy blue sky various shades of yellow and orange.
The islands around us are rugged and jagged. They remind me of the peaks of the Canadian Rocky Mountains. Some are mostly bare, while others are blanketed with pure white snow and low silky clouds.
Today, the view is serene, but the ocean is not. It's not going to be a kayak day. We awoke to high-gusting winds and rough water. During our morning announcement, we heard that those uncomfortable with today's difficult conditions may choose not to go on this morning's excursion, as getting into the zodiacs and then hopping off on shore was going to be wet and difficult.
Getting to Port Charcot, a 2.4 km wide bay on the north side of Booth Island was not a calm and easy ride but quite fun. The crews are talented at getting everyone in and out of the Zodiacs and then bouncing us over the waves without sending someone flying overboard.
Where you sat and the direction you faced contributed to how wet you got and whether you'd get a blast of ice-cold salt water in your face and down your coat.
Bouncing over the rough icy water is a fun wet and cold ride.
The penguins here were fun to see, but for me, this island was about the scenery. It's freaking amazing! I was memorized.
I have experienced beautiful landscapes of frozen blue mountain lakes, and snow-covered glaciers sparkling under the bright sun. The combination, however, of so many shades of the white and blue glaciers and icebergs contrasting against the stark blacks and grays of the rocky backdrop is magical. Even under the dreary gray sky, it's bright and magnificent.
The cold, windy, wet ride to the island was worth it. It felt like I was on a newly discovered planet.
This was the overwintering site of the 1903-1905 French Antarctic Expedition, onboard the Français, commanded by Jean-Baptiste Charcot. What would the early explorers have thought? I could imagine myself coming during the Antarctic summer season and thinking what an amazing place to hang out for a while to do some scientific research, and then when winter arrives realizing, oh shit, it's outrageously cold and my ship is iced in, I'm going to die. How can such a beautiful place become so isolated and potentially deadly?
I have attached a link to an interesting article about Jean-Babtiste's success story. We learned of his journey during one of the lectures on board which I found quite fascinating. The fact his expedition was a success is incredible.
